


So This Is Us

by knowyourrights



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Best Friends, College AU, Ficlet, Friends to Lovers, I wrote this instead of an essay, M/M, Pining, Romantic Comedy, kind of enemies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowyourrights/pseuds/knowyourrights
Summary: Ryan’s entire existence could essentially be summed up into two distinct parts. Pre-Brendon, and Post-Brendon.





	1. Pre-Brendon

Ryan didn’t really consider himself to be much more in life than a bored college kid, trying to get by, trying to get high. He spent most of his time screwing around, playing video games in Spencer’s dorm (the guy had basically every console in existence, and Ryan’s roommate in his freshman year of college was a total fucking asshole, so there was that). Whenever exams would roll around, he’d just steam a label off of a waterbottle and scribble the answers on, stick it back on, and voila, he was no longer a disappointment to his parents. Ryan was a lucky son of a bitch, so he could just about get away with anything. He’d even had a threesome within his first month at college, so he was pretty proud of that.

“My mom called me today.” Spencer swore under his breath as his video game character plunged headfirst into a pool of lava, squeezing the controller in frustration.

“Oh yeah?” Ryan tilted his head further back, attempting to balance a ballpoint pen on the bridge of his nose. He was lounging on Spencer’s bed, baseball tee rolled up around his elbows, essay on the British Raj abandoned beside him.

“She said your mom wants you to answer your phone.” Spencer idly replied.

“I do.” Ryan attempted to nod, before his hands shot back up to his face to save the ballpoint pen.

“When was the last time that you spoke to her?” Spencer challenged.

“two- three weeks. Maybe three and a half.” Okay, so Ryan wasn’t exactly the golden boy when it came to returning his mother’s calls, but it was pointless anyway. He would lie and say that he was studying hard, when he was in fact partying and playing video games. She would talk about how her book group was reading Catcher In The Rye, and what a scamp Holden Caulfield was.

Basically, it bored the living shit out of him.

Before Spencer could start bitching the door flung open, and Ryan’s head jerked up, throwing the biro onto the bed. He scowled at the intruder who had caused him to lose his game.

“What are you talking about?” Said the guy, a little too comfortably for Ryan’s taste, collapsing on the edge of the bed, causing the old mattress to squeak and bounce beneath him.

“Ryan’s mom. As is most of the campus.” Spencer replied, unalarmed by the intruder.

“Fuck you.” Ryan replied cheerfully. “Who the hell is this?”

The intruder was some guy, definitely also a student, based on his boyish appearance. He had floppy brown hair and a face that seemed just ever so slightly out of proportion. Ryan wasn’t complaining, though, because the guy was pretty damn cute.

“That’s Brendon.” Said Spencer nonchalantly, as though Ryan was supposed to slap his palm against his forehead and go, ‘oh, Brendon, how  _ on earth _ could I forget?’

“Who the fuck is Brendon?” Ryan glanced back at the intruder, who was apparently Brendon, and dark chocolate eyes returned his gaze.

“I’m in some of Spencer’s classes.” He explained, before looking Ryan up and down. Ryan felt judged, and tucked the biro back into his pocket. “And  _ you _ are Ryan.”

Ryan was unsure as to whether he should be flattered or terrified by the statement. Perhaps Brendon was some crazy stalker who was planning to make clothes out of Ryan’s skin.

“Spencer told me about you.”

Nevermind.

“And how did you know that I was Ryan?” Ryan raised his eyebrows and folded his arms at this guy who seemed to think that he was smart.

Brendon shrugged. “Brown hair, skinny, looks like a fucking douchebag.”

“Thanks, Spence.” Ryan called at the boy on the floor, who was engrossed in a new level of his video game.

“’Welcome, Ry.”

“Maybe you should check your facts, because  _ you _ look like a fucking douchebag.” Ryan attempted to look intimidating despite the weak insult. It was true, Brendon seemed like a cocky asshole, and Ryan had only known the guy for four minutes.

“Sick burn.” Brendon retorted sarcastically, clearly enjoying Ryan’s horrified face at losing at his own game.

And with that, Ryan being the drama queen that he was, flounced out of the room to get back to his own dorm, abandoning his unfinished essay on the bed. If Spencer wanted to be B.F.Fs with Brendon the Dickhead, it wasn’t like Ryan gave a shit.

 

***

 

“You should talk to Brendon.” Spencer slid onto the bench beside Ryan, nursing a hot chocolate between his hands. The cafeteria of their building was pretty empty at eleven am on a Tuesday, since most people had morning classes, including Ryan.

 

This didn’t necessarily mean he attended them.

 

“Why would I do that?” Ryan asked skeptically, shoving his freshly buttered bagel into his mouth. Brendon was an asshole anyway, and Ryan was totally fine with ignoring him for three years of college. Spencer constantly talked about Brendon’s never ending wit and kindness to the point where Ryan was starting to feel threatened in his position as the Queer One. Plus Brendon didn’t seem to have much appeal beyond his mildly entertaining quips so whatever, right.

 

“Because he’s gay.”

 

Ryan choked on his bagel.

 

So it wasn’t like Ryan was living in some all-hetero world, they were in Indiana for Christ’s sake, but it wasn’t all that often he came across a gay guy who wasn’t A) Under thirty and B) Actually decent-looking. This revelation that Brendon was gay didn’t change anything, of course. Ryan wasn’t some slut who would fall to his knees for the first queer kid to come waltzing into Spencer’s room, thank you very much. 

 

“That doesn’t change anything.” Ryan wiped his mouth, trying to clean up the sputtering mess caused by his now soggy bagel. 

 

“Shouldn’t you guys like…” Spencer made made a bizarre scissoring action with his fingers, “Talk about, y’know, gay shit.”

 

“Glad to know I’m a creature of substance to you.”

 

“You know what I mean!” Spencer huffed and took a sip of his hot chocolate.

 

This, however, did bring new possibilities to Ryan’s attention. He hadn’t talked about gay shit since he’d started college, because Spencer was essentially useless in that department. The kid was far better at Zelda than at blowjobs.

 

As if on cue, the devil himself entered the cafeteria, sipping at a Starbucks coffee. He soon spotted Ryan and Spencer, despite Ryan’s prayers, and seated himself opposite them. 

 

“What’s up?” He tipped his head back to let the final remains of coffee drip into his mouth. Ryan scrunched up his face. Coffee was fucking gross.

 

“You’re gay.” Ryan blurted out, and now it was Spencer’s turn to choke on his hot chocolate. Ryan had sounded far more homophobic and frantic than expected.

 

Brendon simply raised his eyebrows.”You noticed.”

 

“Spencer told me.”   
  
Spencer choked once more. Ryan tried to have sympathy, and failed.

 

“Spencer told you.”

 

Ryan had to think on his feet. He could see Brendon judging him, marking him off as another homophobic friend of a friend to avoid at parties. “Oh, man- I’m not being like, homophobic. I’m gay! Well not gay, bi, but what’s the point of labels? We’re dealing with a very diverse spectrum of sexuality these days.”

 

Smooth.

 

Brendon didn’t exactly look offended, so that was a good sign, but the fact that ‘confused’ was the word that matched closest to his expression, maybe it wasn’t. Ryan had given the guy a small monologue on sexuality, which it was fair to say no one at the table was expecting, including Spencer, who was on the verge of a third choking fit.

 

“Um… Cool?” Brendon said, giving Ryan a slightly skeptical look. Spencer was watching him, somewhere around the midpoint between laughing and cringing. Ryan hated life.

 

“I’m not an asshole!” Ryan continued his rushed mumbling, because he didn’t know quite yet that silence was golden, spiralling further down into this deep, dark hole of regret. He could hear Spencer cracking up to his right, but he was too focused on this kid, this  _ cute _ gay kid. A small smile grew on Brendon’s face, and Ryan’s blood just about boiled over, and _ oh god _ .


	2. Post-Brendon

“Hey Ryan- hey, look at this.” 

Ryan turned look at his friend, exasperated, squinting in the darkness of the movie theatre to see the boy beside him. Brendon was grinning like an excited puppy, completely ignoring the movie in front of them. It sucked anyway.

Brendon picked up a small handful of buttery popcorn, and tossed it into the air above his face, as Ryan watched, only mildly amused. This couldn’t end well, but it wasn’t like he planned on intervening.

“Oh, Jesus fuck.” Brendon hissed as the popcorn flew into the air- before landing rather unceremoniously on his face, only a few stray kernels going into his mouth. 

“Nice.” Ryan nodded, shoving his own popcorn into his mouth as he watched the tragedy unfold before him.

“Dude- it’s in my fucking eye, oh shit shit shit.” Brendon whined, and Ryan rolled his eyes. Brendon was almost as much of a drama queen as him, but Ryan thought Brendon was much more charming than him when he complained. He was always charming. It wasn’t like Ryan liked him though.

Except he entirely did. Since they’d become friends months ago, Ryan had listened to Brendon bitch about boys and teachers and family, enjoying every minute of it, when he could just watch Brendon talk. Ryan had always assumed he would be the manic-pixie-dream boy, and he was, for most people. He was likeable and cute, but it seemed he had encountered a force stronger than him, and that was Brendon. He was just cuter.

“Don’t be a pussy, Bren.” He teased, a middle aged man turning around to give him a death stare.

“Ry, it hurts.” Brendon dragged out the word, pouting at Ryan. If the pouting didn’t get him, the doe eyes and pet name were sure to. God, sometimes he felt like a groupie, crumbling whenever Brendon gave him a flash of the big, sweet eyes.

“God, if you’re gonna bitch about it-” He cut himself off by standing up and pulling Brendon along with him, the bare skin of Brendon’s arm hot against his hand. After shoving through some annoyed teengers, they found themselves pushing through the doors, entering the brightness of the movie theatre lobby. 

“Let me see your eye.” Ryan looked at the shorter man, who was in the midst of covering his eyes with his hand. When he removed it, Ryan found himself staring into deep brown, watering pupils. He reached a hand up to carefully move some hair out of Brendon’s face, willfully ignoring the question of whether or not he was just doing it to touch the kid. He could feel Brendon’s breath on his neck, and god, the guy had to realise what he did to people. No way someone is that pretty and doesn’t know it. 

“Am I okay?” Brendon asked softly, breath hitching slightly as Ryan’s fingers skimmed over his skin. The room must have dropped to minus twenty degrees. Ryan wasn’t going to let himself get roped into this. No dating friends. He couldn’t let Brendon fuck with his head like that.

“You’re not gonna die, asshole, just go wash it out.” He said, ripping apart the moment.

Brendon broke into a smile, stepping back. “You’re too good to me.” He placed a hand over his heart dramatically, back to himself again. He strolled into the men’s bathroom, leaving Ryan alone in the lobby, his only company the cardboard cutouts of movie characters. He slumped against a wall, and let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding in. He was so, so, entirely screwed.

And it was his fault.

And strangely enough, watching Brendon exit the bathroom with a grin and giving him a thumbs up with both hands, and feeling his heart melting, he really didn’t mind.

So what if he had screwed himself? Right now, he had Brendon, and that was all he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of an essay, and it hasn't even been edited so it makes like no sense.


End file.
